


you'll find home

by itisjosh



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Best Friends, Fluff, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Inner Dialogue, Light Angst, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Post-Apocalypse, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itisjosh/pseuds/itisjosh
Summary: The smell of honeydew and blood rival each other, and he thinks that's a perfect example of how beauty and terror can mix into one.Ranboo is admittedly more okay with that than he thinks he really should be, but he supposes that it's easier to accept his fate rather than push against it, hopelessly wishing for a change that will never happen. Plus, Ranboo thinks, things could be worse.Arguably.(or, ranboo makes a trip throughout the city and thinks that things could be a lot worse)
Relationships: Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 211





	you'll find home

The city is a little less lively than he remembers it being. Ranboo walks along the main street, overstepping cracks in the concrete, careful to avoid any loose rocks or anything else that could potentially give his position away. The wind blows past him, ruffling his air, sending his trench coat flying upwards. Everything about this city seems just ever so slightly off, and Ranboo thinks that it might be the lack of zombies that used to flood the streets to the point of overcrowding. He smiles a little, tilting his head up as he walks along the street, his hands shoved in his pockets as he goes. The air smells like spring, like fresh rain and like honeydew, and if he focuses past that, he can smell blood and iron, though not nearly as much as he can smell spring. Ranboo turns his head to the side, glancing over at the apartment buildings that the smell is coming from. He can see hundreds of twisted, deformed faces staring back at him, screaming and pounding on the windows and walls, howling to be let out. Ranboo looks away, figuring that it isn't as important to look behind him than it is to focus on what's in front of him. 

Ranboo isn't entirely sure who decided to round up all the zombies and shove them into a singular building rather than letting them wander the streets, but he's abundantly thankful for them, all things considered. It makes his life a hell of a lot easier, and it's nice to not have to travel by the rooftops. Ranboo has always preferred staying on the ground, since at least then he can run away from whatever is threatening him, whereas up on the rooftops, he's cornered. Jumping down into a pit of zombies is significantly less appealing than running away from a hoard, even though he would still die from both of those situations. Ranboo sighs, relaxing his shoulders and trying his best to relax in general. The screaming and banging of zombies makes it a lot more difficult, but he still tries his best. He looks back to the apartment complex where they're all being held, frowning at how many of them there are. He feels his chest hurt a little, twisting with nervousness, anxiety stirring in the pit of his stomach. If they were to break free, he'd be dead.

To be fair, Ranboo thinks to himself, he should be dead. He should most certainly be dead right now, and the fact that he's survived this long is unbelievable to him. The fact that he's still alive is daunting and shocking and he still can't really believe it. Ranboo doesn't entirely understand it, and he wonders if that's normal or not. Ranboo has been faced with death so many times now that he still can't believe it hasn't taken him. Being alive is both a luxury and a curse, one that he never thought he'd be able to hold on to for so long. He's had so many close calls and near-death experiences, ones that he's still recovering from, ones he's still reeling back from. Ranboo shakes his head, standing a little straighter, adjusting his posture. He continues to move, breathing in the fresh spring air that settles around him. It smells sort of like rain, and he can see that the pavement shines a little, reflecting perfectly whenever the sun hits it _just_ right. Ranboo smiles, swaying on his feet a little as he wanders throughout the city, keeping to himself, keeping himself on the main street that cuts through everything. This place is, somehow, full of light and life, and also filled with death and destruction. 

The smell of honeydew and blood rival each other, and he thinks that's a perfect example of how beauty and terror can mix into one. 

Ranboo steps over a crack in the cement, an old habit that he's never quite been able to get over. He looks over his shoulder, glancing back at the hoard of zombies trapped in a small building, their screams echoing in his ears, though he barely can hear them now. Ranboo takes a shaky breath, turning back around far faster than he probably should. He blocks the noise out of his mind, closing his eyes and screwing up his face for a second before he starts to walk again. The screaming fades, the howling and crying slowly disappears from his mind. Ranboo sighs, feeling slightly less scared, slightly less nervous. He glances down at the ground underneath of him, watching as dandelions wave in the breeze, some of the seeds flying away with the wind, soaring around him, twirling and dancing in the sky before they disappear. Ranboo sometimes thinks that he would like to disappear, that he would like to run away from this city and everything that it harbours. Ranboo knows better than that, though. So long as he's alive, this place is going to be his home, no matter how much he wishes that he wasn't. 

Ranboo is admittedly more okay with that than he thinks that he really should be, but he supposes that it's easier to accept his fate rather than push against it, hopelessly wishing for a change that will never happen. Plus, Ranboo thinks, things could be worse. 

Arguably.

The apocalypse isn't nearly as bad as he thought that it would be, his life is significantly better than it could be. Everything right now, at this exact, current moment, is so much better than he could have ever asked for. Even if it's filled with zombies and he's constantly terrified that he might be dead the next second, things are arguably better than the could be. Things could be so much worse, things could be a _lot_ worse. Ranboo is thankful for the way things are, he's glad that he's lucky enough to still be alive. Ranboo is thankful for more than he could ever say, and he thinks that's important. Thankfulness is an important value in the midst of an apocalypse, and it's one that most people he's met seem to forget. Ranboo hasn't met a lot of people, but the ones that he has met tend to overlook how lucky they are for being alive. They overlook that things could be so much worse, they overlook the fact that they are still breathing and that, most, of their loved ones are doing the same. 

In the midst of hell and chaos, there's still beauty and freedom, and it seems like everyone is so hellbent on ignoring that. Ranboo can sort of understand, because he used to be the same way before he met a boy half the size of him, who was way too good with guns and too smart for his own good. That boy, Tubbo, saved his life. Tubbo saved his life, and he still continues to do so every single time that they're able to meet. Ranboo barely remembers the first time meeting Tubbo, which he doesn't think is all that surprising, given the circumstances in which they met. Ranboo was half dead, bleeding out in the middle of a city that hated him more than he could ever process. Tubbo saved his life then, quite literally, and he still continues to do so right now, with every single day that passes them both by. Ranboo still can't believe that he got lucky enough to find Tubbo. Though, he thinks a second later, it was more so the other way around. Tubbo found _him_ , and Ranboo is unbelievably thankful that he did. Ranboo doesn't think that he would know what to do with himself or even have a reason to survive if it weren't for Tubbo. 

That's the reason he's traversing this awful, terrible, absolutely horrific city - for Tubbo. His best friend is at the end of this place, and this time, Ranboo doesn't intend on going back the way he came. Before he met Tubbo, Ranboo was only coming to the city for supplies. He lived on the outskirts of the city and very, very rarely came to this place. In the past weeks, Ranboo has been visiting here every single day, leaving by nightfall, coming back in the morning. But this time, Ranboo isn't going to turn back around and leave. He's brought everything that he needs with him, all shoved into a backpack that hangs off of his shoulder. Ranboo isn't going to turn around and leave, he's going to stay, and he's going to stay with his best friend. He's going to stay with the boy who saved his life, and he hopes to god that he always will. 

Ranboo looks over his shoulder, watching as the sun slowly, slowly starts to rise. It paints the sky gold and red, streaks of orange filling the sky. Everything about today is good, he thinks to himself. Everything in this moment, right now, is good. Everything will be perfect when he reaches the edge of the city, when he reaches Tubbo for the last time. Ranboo thinks that it's sort of stupid how much he loves Tubbo, how much he loves his best friend, but he also doesn't really care. In the apocalypse, love is the hardest thing to come by, and he thinks that when someone finds it, they should hold onto it. Ranboo doesn't intend on letting go of Tubbo, and he hopes that Tubbo feels the same way. Ranboo thinks he does. The spring breeze blows by him, ruffling his hair and sending his trench coat flying upwards. He steps over a crack in the cement, he looks down at the dandelions that settle in the cracks of the road and pavement. 

Right up ahead of him is an old, worn down apartment building that was abandoned long before the apocalypse even started. There's a porch that has a few plants scattered around, all bright and green, all alive and beautiful. There's a ledge that hangs over the porch, and on top of that ledge is a boy with brown hair and a green button-up. Ranboo smiles, staring at the place that he thinks is home. "Hey," Tubbo turns around, snapping his head back so fast Ranboo is shocked he doesn't get whiplash. Tubbo beams at him, his eyes shining so brightly that Ranboo really can't help but smile. "I made it."

"You did," Tubbo grins at him, hopping down from the overhanging ledge on the building. He hits the ground a second later, moving forwards far faster than he arguably should. Tubbo throws his arms around Ranboo's middle, and Ranboo smiles, bending forwards to rest his head on top of Tubbo's. "How was your trip? Everything go okay?"

Ranboo doesn't think he needs to mention the trapped zombies, considering how the only other person who actively traverses this city is Tubbo. Tubbo is so unbelievably smart, and Ranboo wishes he could understand how he does it. "Yeah," he confirms, smiling. He closes his eyes, feeling far safer than he has in a long, long time. "Everything was good. You got some new plants," Ranboo points out, motioning down to the potted flowers and trees. "Where did you manage to find those?" Tubbo moves back, beaming at him with bright eyes that shine in the sun. Tubbo beams at him, looking vaguely mysterious, looking vaguely like he's plotting something. To be fair, Ranboo thinks to himself, Tubbo always looks like that. "You're not even gonna tell me, huh?" 

"Nah," Tubbo turns away. He reaches out, holding open the door. Tubbo turns his head over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "You coming inside, Ranboo?" 

Ranboo smiles, feeling his heart soar up to his throat. Everything in this moment right here is perfect, everything _right now_ is absolutely amazing, and Ranboo intends on holding onto it as long as he can. 

"Yeah," he confirms, taking the first steps up the stairs, onto the porch. "I'm coming." 

He's finally home.

He's finally made it.


End file.
